


Methos Chronicles 8

by Helis_von_Askir



Series: Methos Chronicles [8]
Category: Highlander - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:02:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23542042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helis_von_Askir/pseuds/Helis_von_Askir
Summary: Alexander the Great, nice chap, good friend when you need one.
Series: Methos Chronicles [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1350058
Kudos: 16





	Methos Chronicles 8

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, still in home office. Still trying to keep from going steer crazy. Have a good time and stay healthy.  
> Disclaimer: I don't owe anything aside from my OCs.

Murron and Methos were enjoying a quiet lunch in the café across the museum when a man called Murron’s name. On looking up Methos saw a man waving in their direction.

“Martin!” Murron called excited and waved him over to them.

“Friend of yours?” Methos asked. The man was in his late forties, but still in good shape and he took good care of his appearance too.

“Martin Freedman, worked with him on a project when I was still a student.” Genius when it comes to Greek and Macedonian history.” She explained quickly.

“Murron, so good to see you. I heard you were working in Europe now. How are you doing?” Martin greeted her and took he in a long hug that told Methos that Murron had done a lot more than just worked for Freedman. Not that he blamed her, Freedman was a good looking guy. And Methos was too old not to have tried everything. But he doubted that either of these two were interested in that.

“I’m great, thanks. This is my boyfriend Alessandro. Alessandro, this is Martin.” She introduced them.

Methos offered his hand. “Pleasure to meet you. What brings you to Paris?”

Martin barely shook the hand before sitting down and giving them a satisfied smile. “My new exhibition on Macedonian artefacts is opening in a couple of days. How could I not be here?”

“Oh yes, I’ve heard of it.” Murron said. “Can’t wait to see it.”

Martin grinned at her. “How about now? I can give you a private tour.”

“Love to but I have a prior appointment, I’m afraid.” Methos told them and stood up. “But you kids have fun.”

“That we will have.” Martin muttered distractedly with his gaze focused on Murron. Methos refrained from rolling his eyes or making a scene. If Freedman tried anything it would be up to Murron to put him back into his place, or not. That was her decision. Though she didn’t even seem to notice the puppy-dog eyes Freedman was throwing her way.

Murron came home a few hours later very excited. “The exhibition is just fantastic. You have to see it, Alessandro.”

Looking up from his book he smiled at her. “I already did, in real and color.”

“Oh yes, right, I forgot whom I was talking to. Sorry.” Murron sputtered for a moment before her excitement rose again. “But Martin thinks he knows where the grave and treasure of Alexander the Great is hidden. He’s putting together a dig and he wants me to come along. If he get the financing set up.”

Methos valiantly tried to keep a straight face but by now Murron knew him well enough to know he knew something important concerning the matter at hand.

“What?” She asked apprehensively.

“Well, I can tell you the location too, but it won’t do you much good.” Methos finally said. He hated to burst her bubble of excitement but he didn’t want her to waste her time on something that would lead nowhere.

“Let me guess, you cleaned it out centuries ago.” Murron muttered.

“Not quite.” Methos replied. “It wasn’t me and it wasn’t stealing, strictly speaking.”

“No, no, no, no. Don’t tell me he’s one of you.” Murron groaned and fell onto the couch next to him.

Methos merely raised an eyebrow. A rhetorical question like that really didn’t demand an answer.

Murron rubbed her eyes. “I hate you so much right now. So there is nothing there anymore. And Martin was so excited.”

Methos shrugged. “I didn’t say that. He may have missed a piece or two. And I don’t know if your friend is even looking in the right place.”

“Why would he do that?” Murron wanted to know exasperated.

“Well, it’s his treasure. He can do with it whatever he wants.” Methos pointed out.

Alessandro, are you awake?” Murron whispered in the dark of the night. Methos was awake instantly. Instincts honed over millennia made certain of that.

“I’m now.” What is it?” he wanted to know.

“How did you meet Alexander? Where you his teacher?” she whispered.

“No, I met him about three, four hundred years later.” Methos muttered and turned around to get back to sleep.

“So, you weren’t there when he conquered the known world?” Murron kept on it.

Methos rolled back and looked at her in the dim moonlight. “I didn’t say that. I may have seem him from afar a time or two but I really only got to know him later.” He clarified.

Italy, Rome, 34 AD

Slowly beating the back of his head against the metal rod he was sitting against, Methos was contemplating how he had ended up in the situation he was. Bad luck, that was the conclusion he came to. Really, bad, rotten luck.

He had been well on his way east when he had run into bad weather. Planning to sit it out in a lovely small inn on the way, he had been woken in the middle of the night to the sounds of serious fighting. It seemed the Roman Empire was short on slaves again. Knowing that he couldn’t fight his way out of this, he tried it with sneaking. And it would have worked if that damned dog hadn’t sniffed him out.

Now it was to the slave markets for him. He could only hope that he wouldn’t end up as a gladiator. Explaining immortal healing to a bloodthirsty audience was not something Methos liked to contemplate.

He had to try to get a position as a house slave or maybe even as a teacher. He did have the education. He just needed to interest the right buyer. With the first ideas for a plan forming in his head, Methos was able to relax somewhat. He would need all his wits about him if he wanted to get out of this situation in a reasonable amount of time.

He didn’t mind the Romans all that much, at least they bathed regularly. They were an arrogant bunch for sure, but not alone in that. And they did not waste good product. It hadn’t taken long for the merchant who bought the captives Methos was a part of to realize that he could make a lot of money off of him.

Not only could Methos read and write several languages, he knew the philosophers by heart, Greek, Roman, Egyptians and a slew of others from farther east. His manners were impeccable and his looks were patrician enough to please the Roman eye.

“I have several patrons in Rome who are going to pay a small fortune for someone like you. Worst case you teach some stupid children some Greek, best case you become body slave to a senator.” The merchant, whose name was Marcus Honorius, told him. Every other Roman was named Marcus after their god of war. Guess every civilization had to have one area where they were not all that inventive.

“Only a small one?” Methos asked with a smile. It had not been hard to get into Marcus’ good graces. The man liked a good fuck.

Honorius laughed and slapped Methos on the shoulder. “I really like you, Telemachus, but we should change your name to something a bit more Roman. How does Romulus sound?”

Methos cocked an eyebrow. “Is that not one of the founders of Rome? I don’t wish to sound too presumptuous by taking such a name.”

“Nonsense, I give every other one of my slaves a new name. Haven’t had a single customer complaining about it.” Honorius told him.

Honorius sold him to a senator, an ambitious one by the name of Patronius. Methos could work with that. He had made more than one king and he had unmade even more. Not that the Romans would ever call their rulers a king. They had an aversion to that term that Methos found baffling. But no matter, if he played his cards right, he could make a good life here.

It did not take long to convince Patronius that Methos was just the man he needed to rise to the head of the empire. And they sat out to put all the pieces in place.

But Methos soon realized that there was one, rather big, obstacle in the way of his plan: Drusilla, wife of Patronius. When he had first seen her, Methos had not even been sure that she was a woman. She was six inches taller than him and must weigh at least 120 kilos.

But she was a woman, one with an appetite that poor Patronius could simply not satisfy. Therefore she often went hunting for men to pick up the slack. For that reason she was feared all over Rome, because no man or boy was safe from her and who dared to say no to the wife of a man as important and influential as Patronius?

It did not matter that the man himself did not have a clue as to what his wife was up to. For whatever reason he truly did love her.

“I’m glad to be leaving for the border in a couple of days.” Marcus Constantine told Methos. He had met the other Immortal the first time when he and Patronius had visited the palace together. And since neither had wanted the other’s head, they had struck up a friendship, to their mutual benefit so far. “The looks Drusilla the Emasculator has cast in my direction recently makes me with for a good bloody battle with the barbarian in the north.”

“At least you can leave, I have to live in the same house with her. I don’t know how long I can keep putting her off.” Methos told him annoyed.

“Maybe you should run away. Stay away for a few decades and then come back as a freeman.” Constantine suggested.

“Patronius will never take the throne without my help, you know that. Do you really want any of the other candidates running the empire?” Methos wanted to know.

Constantine shook his head. “You’re right, of course. Guess you have to make the sacrifice for the greater good.” He couldn’t keep the grin in that was breaking over his face.

“Hilarious, really. I see you tomorrow.” Methos said and left for Patronius’ villa. He never made the meeting the next day. Only hours later the senator had him arrested for raping his wife. As if an halfway sane man would touch that woman voluntarily.

But of course the word of a slave was worthless, especially against that of a senator’s wife. And just like that Methos found himself being nailed to a cross. It was one of the worst ways to die and Methos did die several times before Marcus Constantine finally learned of what had happened and came to the rescue.

“Are you going to be alright?” Marcus asked the older Immortal. They were in his house, where he had taken the rather dead Methos only a few hours earlier. No one would look for his body here. And they would look, executed slaves were left on the crosses until they fell off as a warning towards others.

Methos nodded tiredly. He had bathed to get rid of all the blood and sweat and was now wearing a tunic Marcus had lent him. It was a bit wide on him but it would do for now. “Sure, not like it never happened before. I just need to get out of Rome, out of the Empire ideally. At least for a while.”

“I can put you in the legion and send you to the northern border or to Alba if you like.” Marcus suggested.

Methos scoffed. “Not my most favorite places but I’ll take what I can get right now. But I’m not serving twenty years. And I have no money for expenses on me.”

“I’ll lend you some, I’m sure you’ll pay me back eventually.” Marcus told him.

Methos smiled. “Eventually can be a very long time with us. How about we say a century or earlier?”

Marcus nodded in agreement and they both shook hands on it. And just like that, he was a loyal soldier to the Roman Empire.

The trip to Alba was long but uneventful. Methos had contemplated just leaving the legion and making his way on his own. But no, he had given Marcus Constantine his word. It may not be worth much most of the time, but he liked the younger Immortal and did not want to get him into any trouble. The legions weren’t that bad anyway. He had served in them before, when he had had to.

He traveled with a group of new recruits and frankly they made him feel old. All they could talk about was how much glory they would find fighting the barbarians. To be so young again, to have no understanding of the cruelty of war. Sometimes Methos envied them their innocence.

The ship that had transported them across the channel made port in Londinum. Methos showed his papers to one of the legionnaires at the dock who directed him to the prefecture where he had to report to the Legatus Marcus Alexandrius. He was young for having attained the post, that much Methos knew, but not even Marcus Constantine knew more about him, just that he had bought the rank or posting.

Which was why it was a rather nasty surprise to find that Alexandrius was in Immortal when Methos was led into his presence.

The other man looked just as surprised but since there were others around neither of them reached for their swords.

Wordlessly Methos handed him his documents and after studying them for a while Alexandrius nodded and motioned for Methos to follow him. They walked onto an empty terrace overlooking a good portion of the city.

“These are not very helpful as to why you are here, but I assume you had to leave Rome rather abruptly. Does this Marcus Constantine know about us, Falco?”

“He’s one of us, and yes, I had to leave, and I would prefer to leave it at that.” Methos replied. “If you don’t want me to stay I can leave. There are many other places I can go for a while.”

Alexandrius thought about it while watching the city. “No, stay fi you wish. I could need help with, well everything here. The legion isn’t the best there’s ever been and the natives are not all too keen on us either.” He offered his hand.

Methos grabbed Alexandrius’ forearm and they shook like old friends. This could be a lot more interesting then Methos had anticipated.

It rained a lot, Methos remembered that from earlier stays on the island. And considering that his earliest memories were of deserts he actually like the rain.

His men on the other hand did not. They were Romans through and through and hated this cold, miserable place. But there were riches to be found, slaves, ore, food. And Rome never allowed something like that to be out of their hands.

It was probably a good thing they didn’t know all the places Methos had been to, how big this world really was.

Alexandrius had given him command over a cohort and told him to keep the peace in the area around Londinum.

There had not been much to do so far but it was harvest time, the rebels had more important things to do than rampage around the countryside. That would come later.

Methos inspected the fortification and arranged for repairs where they were needed. There was not much to do and Methos focused on drilling his men. They were young and green and thought they were invincible. They would not last long in a fight now, but once Methos was done with them they would be useful little soldiers.

“I might have to promote you.” Alexander said. The two Immortals had laid down to eat with several other members of his staff.

“Why? Did I do something wrong?” Methos asked with a grin. The others chuckled too. Methos knew how to make friends and Alexander knew how to put competent men in important positions, or at least, put competent people at the side of important men without causing insult. There was a reason he had been so successful during his mortal life.

“Not quite.” Alexander said. “But I heard how well you train your men. I want you to do that with the entire legion.”

“Are you expecting a lot of fighting?” Dovinius, Alexander’s secretary, asked.

“Don’t you?” Alexander asked back. “I want you to work with Hadrian and Flavian, Falco, I want this legion prepared for everything.”

Alexander had been right. The winter did not want to come and the natives used that time to raid outlaying towns and villages. They did not dare to come close to Londinium but they were a nuisance that Methos had to take care of.

Present Day

“You were crucified? But that’s horrible!” Murron exclaimed.

Methos shrugged. “Drusilla would have been worse, believe me.”

“Really?” Murron asked unbelieving.

“Really.” Methos nodded. “You can ask Alexander, he barely escaped her.”

Murron boxed his shoulder. “You’re impossible. Though I would like to meet him and pick his brains.”

“Hmm, he’s in the States, right now. Maybe he’ll come for the exhibition, to rant about all the mistakes they’ve made.” Methos muttered.

“What about you?” Murron asked. “Are you coming with me tomorrow to the grand opening?”

“Of course.” Methos kissed her. “I’m your humble servant.”

The opening was indeed a grand affair with men in expensive suits and women in even more expensive dressed and jewelry. Methos was not surprised in running into Mac and Amanda there. The Highlander kept a tight hold on the immortal thief to keep her from filching anything just for the fun of it.

Methos watched them amused until Murron took Amanda to the ladies for gods knew what. That was one of the few things in life Methos had not been able to learn, nor did he care to risk life and limb to find out.

“Nice exhibition.” Mac said. “Don’t you think?”

“Yeah, it’s nice.” Methos agreed half-hearted. There were more mistakes than he would have expected. It would appear that the good Doctor Freedman had been a bit sloppy in his research. Speaking of which, the man made his round, shaking hands and getting congratulated. He did appear quite a bit arrogant and full of himself but that was to be expected. Methos saw several French ministers and at least one US senator in attendance. Good for the ego.

“What do you think about his plans on finding the grave of Alexander the Great?” Mac wanted to know. “I mean, I know he’s one of us, Graham Ashe told me about him, but Freedman could still find something.”

Methos shrugged. “If he were looking in the right place, which he isn’t.”

“Man, it would be nice to tell him, save him the disappointment.” Mac mused.

“Yeah, on the other hand, he wouldn’t be able to brag about it to the others then.” Methos pointed out. “As he is currently doing to the good senator.”

“Damn, I really should brush up my lip reading.” Mac shook his head in amusement.

“Yes, you should.” Methos grinned. Then you would know what Murron and Amanda are talking about right now.

MacLeod turned around and saw the women approach. “What are they saying?”

But Methos shook his head now and smiled. “Sorry, you have to find that out yourself.”

A moment later the presence of yet another Immortal washed over them. Amanda raised an eyebrow at them but Mac and Methos could only shrug. They weren’t expecting anyone.

They all looked at the entrance where a moment later a blond man, seemingly in his early thirties, entered with a pretty brunette on his arm.

“Speak of the devil.” Methos muttered.

“Is that him?” Murron and Mac asked at the same moment.

“Yes, that’s him.” Methos confirmed.

“Amanda, Alessandro,” Alexander greeted them when he reached their little group.

“Francis.” Amanda gave him a peck on the cheek.

“Alex.” Methos nodded at him and smiled at his companion. “Olivia, so good to see you.”

“You too, Alessandro.” Olivia gave him a hug. “So, tell me, did they make a lot of mistakes? Alex refuses to tell me.” She gave Alexander a pointed look. “And we will talk later about _Francis_.”

“Oh, we’re just friends, really.” Amanda told her. “We met at court ages ago.”

Methos grinned at them. “Amanda, the master of understatement. Your husband was Francis Walsingham back then.”

Murron nearly chocked next to him and Olivia gave Alexander a look. “Really, now isn’t that interesting?”

“Can we talk about my misspent youth late?” Alexander wanted to know. “We’re about to have company.”

Freedman joined them with a big smile. “Good evening everyone, I hope you’re enjoying the exhibition and the evening in general.”

“Oh yes, very enlightening.” Alexander told him with a straight face. “Very provocative theories, though.”

“Well, the old ones aren’t selling anymore, so I found new ones.” Freedman laughed. “No, I just took a new look on it. And it will pay off, you’ll see.”

“I certainly will.” Alexander smiled politely.

A couple of days later Murron met with Martin for lunch at a very nice, very expensive bistro in Montmatre.

“The dig is a go. We start in six months. I would love to have you along.” Martin told her enthusiastically.

Murron smiled but shook her head. “I can’t, Martin. I appreciate the offer, but I can’t.”

“If it’s your boyfriend, I’m sure he can be made to see reason. This is a great opportunity for you.” Martin pointed out.

“I know, but I like my job here and I’m happy where I’m right now. I’m sorry, Martin, but I can’t come, because I don’t want to come.” Murron said.

Martin leaned back in his chair. “You don’t believe I’ll find anything. You think I’ve got the wrong spot.” It almost sounded like an accusation.

“No, Martin, I just want to come. There are so many others who would kill for a chance to work at one of your digs. You won’t have a shortage of applications.” Murron pointed out.

“But I want you.” Martin burst out and one had to be blind and deaf not to hear the real meaning of that.

Murron grabbed her handbag and stood up. “I should leave now.”

“Murron, I’m sorry, please stay, let’s talk about this.” Martin pleaded.

She shook her head. “I think we talked enough.” And with that she left.

Methos could tell something was wrong when Murron returned home early. He put the brush and paints away and followed her into the bedroom where she was pacing the length of the room. “What happened?” he asked.

“Nothing.” Murron muttered and threw her bag down.

“That does not sound like nothing.” Methos stated and leaned against the door frame. If she didn’t want to tell him, fine, but if she did, he would wait until she was ready. It didn’t take very long.

“Martin renewed his offer for the dig.” She stated. “And something more.”

Methos sighed. Of course he had. What straight man wouldn’t?

“I told him I’m didn’t want to go, that I’m happy where I am and he told me that you could be made to see reason and that he wanted me.” Murron hissed. “What does he think I am? Your property?”

“I’m hazarding a guess here and say he wasn’t thinking, at least not with his brain.” Methos said. “And I can’t blame him. Deep down we men are all still Neanderthals. But I do feel very, very flattered that you turned him down.”

Murron scoffed and came over to him. “You have a very high opinion of yourself, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do. Want me to show you how I got it?” Methos asked and took her into his arms.

Murron leaned against his chest. “Oh, I’d love to but I need a shower first. Alone, if you don’t mind.”

“That’s mean, but of course not.” Methos kissed her on the top of her head. “I had another place in mind anyway.”

Laughing, Murron slapped him on the shoulder and headed for the bathroom. Methos smiled after her, knowing she would be fine.

A couple of days later Methos was engrossed in his newest painting when the doorbell rang. Standing outside was Dr. Martin Freedman looking impatient. Somehow Methos wasn’t surprised that the man had shown up.

“Dr. Freeman, Murron’s not here…” he started.

“I wanted to talk to you, actually.” Freedman interrupted him.

“Do you now?” Methos leaned against the door frame. “Why is that?”

Freedman scoffed. “You know very well that this is about. You convinced her to turn down my job offer.”

“I did no such thing.” Methos informed the mortal. “Murron can make up her own mind. She doesn’t need me for that.”

“Oh, really? Then why did she say no?” Freedman wanted to know.

Methos shrugged. “Maybe your offer wasn’t enough. Was that it or do you want to discuss anything else? I have work to get back to.”

Freedman scoffed condescendingly. “Oh yes, painting. How important.”

Methos smiled. “Well, we have to leave something for future generations to dig up, don’t we?”

“This isn’t over yet.” Freedman promised and stormed off.

“I can’t believe he came here. What’s wrong with the man?” Murron hissed when Methos told her about Freedman’s visit.

“Nothing, Murron. He just feels very passionate about this and wants you to be part of it.” Methos said. He didn’t really blame Freedman, he understood him. He just didn’t like him very much. He should respect Murron’s decision. Though if Freedman didn’t give up soon, Methos would go Neanderthal on him.

Murron scoffed. “I rather think he wants certain parts of me.”

Methos smiled. “You said that. And you’re probably right.”

“So, how do I make him stop?” Murron wanted to know annoyed.

Shrugging Methos returned to his cooking. “By continuing to tell him to get lost. At one point it will have to get through his head, besides, he’ll have to leave eventually for his dig.”

“I don’t have your patience, you know.” Murron pointed out.

Methos smiled again. “It comes with time.”

Italy, Rome, 92 AD

Stopping by one of the public wells, Methos looked around carefully. He didn’t think that he would be recognized by anyone from his last stay here, though it was still a risk, a very small one. Sure, it had been 58 years but some of these mortals could be too stubborn to die in a timely fashion.

After drinking his fill he continued on. After all he was here to repay a debt. Most people who knew him, the real him, didn’t have a very high opinion of him, with good reason, but usually he at least tried to repay those he really owed.

And Marcus Constantine had influence here in Rome, still and again. The younger Immortal was running a high a high risk by never leaving the empire for long, but so far it had paid off. Though with Domitian as emperor that might change. A ruthless but efficient ruler by all accounts, loved by the army and the common people. Not so much by the senate. It would be interesting to see who would win that power struggle.

Maybe he would stay for a bit, not to get involved, just to watch. He had had his fill of politics. But as a safely distanced spectator, it might be fun.

But first things first. Marcus Constantine’s villa wasn’t hard to find. Not the biggest, not the highest, but just right for a successful, noble born of course, leader of the Roman Legion.

Marcus Constantine came into the atrium to welcome him after a slave led ethos in. “Old friend, I had not thought to see a good long while yet.”

Methos shrugged. “I thought it a good time to repay my debt to you. I had a few good years up in the north.”

“Where exactly did you go? Alexander didn’t say.” Marcus Constantine wanted to know.

“East, then north. There is a lot of land up there no Roman has ever set foot on.” Methos told him.

Marcus Constantine chuckled. “We’ll get tit eventually. But I can’t imagine many living there if it’s even farther north than Alba.”

“They don’t have a Rome, not even a Lutetia, but there ae more people than you might think. Hard people, you have to prepare well if you want to conquer them.” Methos explained.

“If?” Marcus asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, if I understand the situation correctly the divine emperor had other priorities.” Methos said and drank from his wine.

“Yes, that is true.” Marcus sighed. “He has so much potential, but he just doesn’t use it. He’s so easily distracted. Hence our not so great success in the field. The legion is still behind him, though.”

“Maybe the next one will be better.” Methos emptied his cup. “Now, I need to find some loggings and then an occupation.”

“If you want to stay in Rome you’re welcome to stay in my house. I can even get you work.” Marcus stated.

“But you don’t think I should.” Methos finished for him.

Not it was Constantine’s turn to shrug. “There are still some men alive from back then. Nowadays sixty years are not always enough.”

“Maybe, but come on, if I turn into someone I can always play dumb. I’m a lookalike, such things happen.”

“If you’re sure.” Marcus said and stood up. “Then you need to start meeting the right people, and the best way to do that is the Colosseum.”

The Colosseum had been built during the reign of Vespasian and then Titus, finished only about a decade ago. Methos had heard of it in his travels and though he had seen many impressive buildings in his life but the Colosseum was something else. And it was not a temple or even a palace but a place of slaughter, which the Romans liked so much. In that regard it was a kind of temple, after all.

The Romans liked to believe they were so much more civilized than everyone else but in truth they were just as bloodthirsty and barbaric as everyone else. They just sold it better.

Marcus Constantine had gotten good seats and for someone like him there was always another seat free for a guest.

“What are they so excited about?” Methos had to shout to be heard over the noise of several thousand people, men mostly, so far Methos had only seen a handful of women, most of the not respectable.

“Oh, just a bunch of Christians are getting thrown to the lions.” Marcus told him. “I really don’t get them, you know. All they have to do is pay lip service to the emperor as being divine, I can’t imagine their god won’t understand that. But no, they prefer to die.”

Methos scoffed. He had run into Christians before, most were quite alright, if a bit fanatic about their new religion but that was to be expected. “They probably believe it will get them to their god all the more quickly.” Though he didn’t think Christ would want that for them. At least that had been the impression he had gotten from the man.

“Probably.” Marcus agreed.

As they neared their seats they felt the presence of another Immortal. A moment later they saw Alexander sitting a row behind their seats surrounded by his friends. They exchanged greetings and then the show started.

“Well, that was…interesting.” Methos commented as the three Immortals left the Colosseum.

“Better get used to it.” Alexander said. “The people here love it. Keeps them calm…calmer.”

“Why doesn’t that not surprise me?” Methos shook his head. “No wonder the Romans are in such dire need of slaves all the time.”

“Good for business.” Marcus pointed out.

Alexander chuckled. “That is true. Now, how about lunch? Iphigenia is entertaining tonight.”

Methos raised an eyebrow. “Last I heard she was in Hispania.”

“Oh yes, where she caught herself a very rich senator who passed away shortly after they came back to Rome.” Alexander explained.

“Lucky for her.” Methos muttered.

“Well, he was over seventy when they married.” Marcus said with a smile. “He died a happy man.”

Iphigenia, now Julia, widow of senator Cassius Maximus, lived in a very spacious villa in the best, and most expensive, part of Rome. But then she always knew how to take care of herself. And she looked gorgeous.

“Widowhood becomes you.” Methos whispered when they were officially introduced.

Iphigenia smiled. “Why, thank you. You are not looking bad yourself. I take it that you will stay in Rome for a while?”

Methos shrugged. “I plan to, yes. It’s the place to be, or so I have been told.”

Iphigenia laughed. “So the Romans like to think. Come, let me introduce you to my friends. You’re going to need a wife, after all.”

Oh, he should have seen this coming. And neither Alexander nor Marcus were helping, just trying not to laugh.

Ah, well, at least he could divorce whoever Iphigenia had in mind, should it not work out.

End


End file.
